Hunting Party
by LittleMewLugia
Summary: Five new arrivals to the Autobot base cause a stir just by being there...
1. Chapter 1: The Team

-1Hunting Party

Summary: Five new arrivals to the Autobot base cause a stir just by being there.

Pairings: Plenty, but you'll have to wait and see who! Mainly canonical. There are NO OC's

Rating: M for adult themes.

Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro and DreamWorks/Paramount.

Hunting Party

Chapter One

The Team

The five had made sure that they set out and travelled together, for they worked as a highly-effective team. If they were attacked, the team could defend themselves more effectively than if they worked separately. This had been proved time and again as they dealt with the many skirmishes they had invariably run into on their way here.

As they approached the atmosphere of the planet the signal they had been following came from, they stayed closely grouped together in their protective cometary forms.

As a consequence they did, as planned, land relatively close to each other, and had no trouble regrouping, and the five protoforms headed for the nearest road to obtain suitable disguise and travel forms for this world.

The Team Leader stood on watch as the other four crouched, and scanned suitable vehicles for their respective mass and sizes. Once this objective had been accomplished by the four, the Team Second resumed bipedal form, and stood watch as the Team Leader located and scanned a suitable form. The Team Second and Team Leader both assumed their vehicle forms next to the other three who were already in alt-mode, and then, choosing their moments carefully, they swung out into the stream of traffic individually, so as not to draw attention to themselves, but made sure they could each be seen by at least one of the other team members.

Travelling in this way, their journey was uneventful. Following the directions encoded in the transmission that had led them to this planet in this solar system, they headed for the extension of the Army base just outside of Tranquility that had been given by the Army to the Autobots as a base of operations.

It was Cliffjumper, who was on gate duty, who encountered them first. He was very bored, as nothing had happened, so when the sensors picked up five Cybertronian life-signs outside the gates, he was rather glad of the change in status. He was about to ask for them to identify themselves and ask if they were friend or foe, when five signals came up on the receiver: they were all Autobot-coded. As friends, he could cheerfully let them in: he had only been told to call Ironhide if the coding was doubtful, or definitely Decepticon.

He pressed the button that operated the gate, opening it to admit the five vehicles, who all entered. As the gate closed, the five converted to bipedal form, one after the other, beginning with the Team Leader. Cliffjumper's optics opened wider and wider as each team member assumed robot form. He didn't dare blink in case they disappeared: he didn't want to be accused of seeing things, and he _didn't_ want to stop seeing them.

"Can you direct us to Optimus' office, please?" the Team Leader asked politely.

"Uuh….down the corridor, past the rec-room on the right, keep going, you'll pass the med-bay on the left, and Optimus' office is the next door on the right." he said. "It should have a sign on it."

As they thanked him and headed into the base, he could not take his optics off them until they had all disappeared inside.

He hit the button that would tell Ironhide his presence was needed at the gate, for he _knew_ that he was about to overload, and he knew from experience that he would offline at that point. His suspicions were confirmed as a blackness settled over his mind. His optics flared and dimmed as his processors overloaded and his body shut down to protect his systems from potential catastrophic failure.

When Ironhide found him, he was still wearing a stunned smile. Ironhide managed to bring him back online, and as Cliffjumper's optics unshuttered and registered his presence, Ironhide asked "What happened, Cliffjumper?"

"Five femmes!" was all that Ironhide could get out of him (as well as a goofy grin.) "_Five femmes!"_

Ironhide decided that Cliffjumper had to be hallucinating. The Autobots had been femmeless for thousands of years. It had to be harder on the younger mechs like Cliffjumper, he supposed, the strain was bound to take its toll.

"You're relieved, soldier, I'll take your shift, report to Ratchet at once." he said, giving Cliffjumper a gentle but firm push between the shoulder plates. Still wearing that silly grin, Cliffjumper complied. Ironhide watched him go.

"Five femmes?" muttered Ironhide to himself. "I _wish_!"

As the five walked past the rec-room, Mirage happened to look up from his cup of energon. He almost dropped it, and was at first unable to speak as he saw big chests, slender, graceful arms and hands, and beautiful long shapely legs go past the open door. As the third team member went by, he managed to let out a small, wordless cry, and point.

Everyone looked up, for those who had not heard the cry had noticed the movement of Mirage's arm, as he knocked a pile of data chips flying. Their optics all widened along with his as they saw the rest of the team troop past, totally unaware of the effect they were having on the mechs in the room. Once they had gone past, there was a stunned silence in the rec-room as overloaded processors struggled to assimilate the images the optics had fed them.

Then there was a mad scramble for the door.

Optimus was powered down to conserve energy as he had finished that day's mountain of paperwork and had nothing more he had to do that day. He was roused by the two knocks on his door: obviously one of his men had something to report to him. Hoping it wasn't more paperwork, he powered up to full awareness, and called "Come in!"

The door opened and the figure who stepped in was immediately familiar to Optimus. Immediately familiar, totally unexpected, but very, _very_ welcome. At first he just stared in utter disbelief, and then he found his voice.

"Elita?" he asked in disbelief, and then _"Elita!" _

Joy and wonderment were reflected in his voice as he sent her a databurst conveying love and affection. His Spark-mate, his bond-partner, she was alive, and she was _here!_

"Reporting for duty, Leader Prime." Elita-One replied formally, but she could not stop a grin from spreading over her face as she looked at him and replied to his databurst in kind. She found a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the other side of the door, and pinned it over his office plaque, and then she nodded, and stepped aside.

A small purple-pink femme entered after her.

"Arcee, Team Second, reporting for duty, Leader Prime Sir." she said. She moved forward, which allowed a yellow and red femme to stand before Optimus. She was even more formal, saluting to him.

"Firestar reporting as requested." she said, then moved as a beautiful blue femme moved in.

"Chromia reporting for duty, Leader? May I ask if Ironhide is with you?"

"Yes, he is." Optimus managed to say, and Chromia smiled radiantly, moving aside to allow the final team member, a green femme, to take her place.

"Moonracer reporting for duty sir, as and when you need me." she said, giving Optimus a saucy wink and allowing her eyes to look him over lingeringly. Then she seemed to remember where she was, and nodded, moving back with the others.

Elita had looked up at Moonracer's comment, and she could see from Moonracer's optics and body language exactly _which_ sort of duty she was really hoping for. Moonracer had a good optic for fine-looking mechs, and Elita could see that not only Moonracer, but her other three team members obviously thought that Optimus was a _very_ fine figure of a mech indeed.

She had to agree with them on that point. She was only just managing to hold herself off from throwing herself into his arms, and covering his head with kisses, and caressing those incredibly sensitive antennae of his and stroking his chest so that he would shake all over with the sensations she knew she could tease from his systems for him. He looked less tense than when she had first entered, but still more tense than she liked. She wanted to relax him in the way she knew they would both linger over, and enjoy every second of it, but she was the Team Leader, and she had to think of her team, even now, when they had reached the sanctuary of the Autobot Base.

She looked at all her team members, and could see her own hunger for that sort of action reflected in the optics of each of them. Some of them, she knew, had gone without for longer than she had, and of the others, they had all gone without as long as she had. She straightened her shoulders, and looked her Leader, her lover, in the optics.

"Leader, I have a special request to make, on behalf of my team. Would you object if, just this once, I allowed my team to-share? Usually, in a circumstance such as this, I would not even consider asking, and if you do object, I will send them away to acquaint themselves with the other people in the base. However, we have all been without the company of a friendly and considerate mech for a long time, and, with your permission, I would like, just this once, to share my most precious and special friend with my team. Please?" she asked.

Optimus' optics widened as he realised what Elita was asking of - no, _offering! -_ him! It took him a moment to find his voice again.

"I have no objections to agreeing to this request if nobody else objects either." he said, opening his arms in what he hoped was an inviting gesture, and allowing his optics to rove and linger over each and every one of the femmes in front of him. Elita smiled, and walked over to stand behind Optimus.

"Team, stand down from formality. Our leader is tense, and so are we. Our duty is to relax our leader, and that duty should enable us to relax as well." She placed slender fingers on Optimus' audio processors, and slid them up the edges of his antennae with a practiced ease that belied the time that had passed since she had last done so. Optimus' head jerked, his optics shuttered, and he gasped.

Elita smiled as her team gathered round, placing slender hands on the chest, arms, and legs of their Leader, and her lover. She repeated the antenna-caress and he gasped again. Elita bent down to kiss his head, Optimus' reaction to that telling her that she need not worry that she had lost any of her touch with him.

She slid her hands slowly down his shoulders, and down onto his chest. He moaned once, quietly, happily.

She, and he, were both going to _enjoy_ this.


	2. Chapter 2: Femmes Have Appetites Too

-1Hunting Party

Chapter Two

Femmes Have Appetites Too.

The first of the mechs from the rec-room reached the door as Elita reached out to affix the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. She pulled an apologetic face as she saw their disappointed looks, and closed the door.

"_Slag!" _swore Bluestreak. "We don't _dare_ go in there after them!"

"well, maybe they'll be out soon." Mirage said hopefully.

"Not fraggin' likely, if Elita's in there." Jazz said. "If we're lucky, she'll send the others out, but it's more likely he'll debrief them all first, which'll take at _least_ an hour." he said. They all looked gloomy-except for Mirage, who got a crafty look on his face.

"Well, when they do, Optimus'll probably send them down to get checked over by Ratchet. Assuming he keeps Elita back for - er - extra debriefing, shall we say, the other four will be in the medical bay. Which means Cliffjumper and I my be asked to assist." He rubbed his hands together. "I think I'll go and let Ratchet know, and offer my assistance. Send Cliffjumper down if you see him, he's got med bay experience too."

"What the _slag's_ going on? I heard running feet!" asked Ratchet worriedly, looking out from the med bay door. "What are all of you doing hanging about in the corridor? First I get Cliffjumper walking in in a daze mumbling some nonsense about five femmes-like I wouldn't _know_ if five femmes had just walked in?-and then you lot are hanging around here as if you have nothing better to do, causing a racket outside _my_ med bay! Go back to the rec room, all of you, play some pool, throw some more of those dart things at that image of Starscream you have pinned up or something, but don't hang around like a group of bored subadults looking for trouble!" Then he caught the expressions on their faces.

"What's the matter?"

"Five femmes _have_ just walked in, Ratch." said Bluestreak. Ratchet's optics widened.

"Then where _are_ they, Bluestreak?" he asked, waving a hand around. "I can't see any femmes here, you're imagining things. Maybe you're due for some recharge. There's a berth your size free." Ratchet said.

"That's because they're not out here, they're in _there_!" Bluestreak said, indicating Optimus' office door. Ratchet looked, only noticing the 'Do Not Disturb' sign at that moment.

"Forget 'Do Not Disturb,'" he muttered. "If they've just landed they'll need to be checked over and maybe to recharge. Optimus can wait for the slagging debriefing session till I've checked them over and let them rest. Optimus is so caught up in his duties, he never seems to relax, and…" He cut himself off as his sensitive ears caught a moan, barely audible, through the door.

"On the other hand, it's probably as well I managed to get him to recharge last night. Do any of you want to help me clear up the med bay ready for them?"

Nobody refused, hoping to drag the task out long enough for the femmes to get there.

Mirage and Jazz, with their sensitive hearing, had also caught the moan.

"Optimus never debriefed _me_ like that." muttered Mirage to Jazz with a smile. Jazz shook his head.

"Me neither, man." he said.

They followed the rest into the med bay.

The team were performing, as always, as a fully-integrated unit. Elita nodded to Firestar, who was to her right, leaning across Optimus' desk, stroking his arm and right of his chest. Smoothly, barely stopping what they were doing, they switched places, Firestar continuing to stroke the antennae as Elita had been doing, Elita climbing on to the desk and running practiced hands along Optimus' chest.

She ran light fingers across his grillework, smiling as he shuddered and let out another low moan. Primus, but his chest was _still_ sensitive with an Earth alt-mode disguise! She ran her fingers along the grillework, then blew air along them. She shuffled herself over his desk so as to reach the other side of his chest, trailing her fingers over the doors and windows of his truck-disguise. She placed one finger on the edge of his fuel intake, lightly rubbing around the edge probing just a little further in, and then a little further again. He gasped and called her name, he may not have seen it, but he knew they had changed places, he knew her caresses.

She sat up on the desk, slowly sliding one hand under the plating, caressing his chest, stroking wires and cables, enjoying the little gasps and moans and cries this drew from him. Leaning against him and pressing her chest against his, her other hand slipped under the plating on his back, finding the edge of his spinal structure, which she rubbed and pressed against, stroking up and down it. She caressed wires, both front and back, and on his chest she felt his main chest panel catches loosen, and with caressing motions, she helped release them.

Suddenly both his hands were on her back, stroking and caressing with practiced ease. One hand took gently hold of hers, and his mouth moved with practiced ease to the sensitive inside edges of her elbow and wrist. She gasped and writhed as the kisses sent pleasant shocks along her systems, and she twitched and stretched on his desk.

His other hand was running down one of her legs, touching an exposed joint and caressing it, clasping her narrow ankle lovingly, running back up, lightly and teasingly running his fingers along the inside of her knee joint, making her squirm in pleasure. Then his hand moved upwards again, to clasp her thigh, her aft, her waist. Experienced fingers loosened her main chest plate catches, which were already almost ready to open of their own accord, her Spark in the Spark chamber beneath aching to join with his. His fingers found the fuel lines she would feed Sparklings with when she had them, and he rubbed and caressed them, gently and sensuously. Lowering his head, he gently pushed a chest plate aside, and allowed his mouth to tease one fuel line just below her main chest plate as his fingers continued to stimulate the other one.

She was close to overload, stars dancing in front of her optics. Both her hands were clasping him to her, back and waist, and she felt his hands lift her into a kneeling position on the desk, felt them flatten on her back, pulling her against him. One arm held her there, the other slid around to support her lower body-ever considerate was her Optimus. His mouth found hers and pressed against it and - _Primus! _- Where _had_ he learned to kiss like that? That was a new - and _very _pleasureable - experience, who would have guessed that moving his jaw and lips like that could make it so enjoyable?

Then the world was blotted out and all that existed for them both was each other, and the light of their Sparks as they joined and blazed together, and their music joined as they sang as one.

Her last thought before even that fled her was to wonder how the Matrix would _ever_ be able to compare to this.

In the med bay, everyone stopped what they were doing as two horns sounded, one much louder and deeper than the other. Those who had not worked out what was going on all must surely have known now, Ratchet decided.

Bluestreak stared.

"Was that Optimus' truck horn? Should we make sure he's all right?" Ratchet made a grab for him. So did Cliffjumper, who had come out of it enough to help get the med bayt tready for the femmes' arrival.

"Absolutely _not_, Bluestreak, Prime is more than all right, this is _exactly_ what he needs right now!" Bluestreak's optics widened again as he guessed what was going on.

"Is he going to get a go with _all_ of them?" he asked.

"That, Bluestreak, is none of your business, that's between Prime and them."

"They'll wear him out!" he said incredulously. Ratchet smirked.

"Then it's a _very _good thing I managed to persuade him to recharge last night then, isn't it?" he said.


	3. Chapter 3: Optimus in the Matrix

Hunting Party

Chapter Three

Optimus in the Matrix.

A/N Arcee is the 2007 Movieverse Arcee that didn't make it into the 2007 movie. That makes her only nine feet tall.

As Moonracer's delicate fingers trailed to the back of Optimus' neck, Elita mentally ran through a long and inventive list of curses at her own memory lapse. Optimus' reaction to Moonracer's stimulation of his occipital data ports confirmed that this area was highly sensitive. How _could_ she have forgotten? Oh well, she comforted herself, next time she had some alone time with Optimus, she _wouldn't_ forget it, and they would _both_ have fun rediscovering any other sensitive parts of each other's anatomy they may have not recalled this time around.

Elita herself was now kissing and trailing teasing fingers up and down the inside of his upper left leg, one sensitive place she had _not _forgotten about. Arcee, taking her cue from Elita, was doing the same to the inside of his right leg. Elita could tell by the trembling of Optimus' lower half, and the twitches that their caresses teased from him, that their touches were driving him into an even greater state of excitement then the first time.

Firestar had taken position behind him, her inexperience not limiting her willingness to experiment, nor affecting her recollection of how Elita had stroked the antennae and audio processors that she herself was now stroking. Chromia was, in contrast, the most experienced of the five of them, and was expertly stimulating both Optimus' back and his chest, a hand on each, in what Elita recognised as a highly sensuous manner.

Once again, as Moonracer's own attentions switched to Optimus' chest, and his hands jerked up towards her, his hands sliding up and crossing over each other to clasp her to him, his hands gliding up and over the plates of her shoulders, the rest of the team, as if given a signal, withdrew, just as the team had done when Elita had been in the position that Moonracer was now. Optimus now had Moonracer in his arms and hands: the team's part in this liaison was over, for any further action by the team would only distract one or both of them.

They stood back, and waited for Optimus and Moonracer to finish what they had all begun.

"He _is_ gonna end up going with all five of them, isn't he?" observed a gloomy Bluesteak, as the truck horn, and another, unknown horn, clearer and higher than Optimus', pierced the air.

"Don't worry, Bluestreak, in _that_ department, femmes have often proven to have more stamina than mechs. I'm _sure_ they'll get round to you at some point soon, Bluestreak." said Ratchet, smiling.

"That's unlikely." Bluestreak moaned. "I'm just the big, ugly mech who talks too much, they won't want anything to do with _me!"_

The other mechs were quick to reassure Bluestreak that that was not the case at all, that he was a good mech and a good friend, and that he had as good a chance as the rest of them.

"Less talking and more working would really help to get this place ready for their arrival." Ratchet stated. "_All_ the recharge berths need servicing and cleaning." He smirked.

"I have a feeling they'll be getting a _lot_ of use very soon."

Chromia wasted no time.

While the others stimulated Optimus, she slid up on to his desk so that she was right in front of him, using hand gestures to indicate to Arcee and Elita (who were either side, stroking his arms) to divert their attentions to his head and back. Elita went back to stroking his head, (this time, not neglecting the data ports) while Firestar and Moonracer were at work on his legs and hips, driving his hide into a tingling, buzzing frenzy of sensation.

Chromia laid both of her hands flat on his grillework, and slowly slid them up underneath the blue-and-red flamed doors, touching and caressing the sensitive wires and cables her inquisitive digits found. Reaching her head up, she lightly brushed Optimus' sensuous, incredibly mobile lips with her own, and when he firmly and eagerly responded, her hunger matched his own, her hands sliding back out from under his plating to gently but firmly latch onto his head to keep their mouths in contact with each other, some of her fingers lightly brushing and trailing little circles on his audio processors.

In turn, Optimus' hands rose up to grip her under each shoulder, thumbs along her sides, fingertips on her back, not holding her up, but just holding her for a few seconds, before he slid them down her body in a manner that made her buck and squirm on his desk, and push her chest forwards to meet his.

One of the hands continued its downwards progression, sliding over her aft and down her thighs, as the other went back up to wrap about her shoulders, his hand there strengthening its grip as the other reached the inside knee joints, stopping only briefly to caress the interior of the joints before the arm looped under the legs at that point. All of a sudden, Chromia was no longer on the desk but cradled lovingly in Optimus' arms as he took her weight, holding her against him.

This was the rest of the team's cue to back off, which they did. Not long after, Chromia and Optimus' horns sounded at the same moment. The team shared a smile. _That_ had been timed well.

As Optimus gently laid the almost-overloaded Chromia gently back down on the table, Elita looked at the youngest of their group, Firestar. She brought her forwards.

"Optimus, this is Firestar, and I'm glad she'll have such a gentle and considerate mech to teach her. This is Firestar's first time." Optimus looked up at the young femme. Firestar's optics caught his own, desire, willingness and nerves all mixed up together in her gaze.

"Are you _sure_?" Optimus asked, stunned, for to be asked to be the teacher of a subadult with no experience of Spark-sex was a great honour indeed. Both Elita and Firestar nodded their assent.

"Neither of Firestar's parental units survived the war. As her Team Leader, the responsibility for her welfare falls to me. I _know_ you to be a very gentle, kind, and considerate mech, I felt you would be the best option." Elita explained. Optimus, stunned by her confidence, and the responsibility she was entrusting him with, was temporarily rendered speechless.

Elita took Firestar's hand in her own, stretching out Firestar's arm as she held her hand out towards Optimus.

"Firestar trusts me to act as her maternal parental unit. I request that you, as a known and trusted member of our society, consider teaching this child what it is to be a femme. I entrust her to your consideration and care." she said solemnly

Optimus' optics widened as he recognised the formal phrasing of Elita's request. She had misinterpreted his stunned silence at the request as doubt. With a formal request such as she had made, the only polite and acceptable reply was a formal response: either acceptance of the request, or denial, with an explanation of why he was refusing the request. Optimus, finding his vocal unit was now responding to the signals his processor clusters sent it, spoke.

"Guardian of this child, I agree to your request with humility. I will endeavour to bring this child into her adulthood by teaching her the joy and knowledge of what it is to be an adult femme. I express my gratitude for your trust in me." he replied.

The formal phrasing had taken a few more seconds for Optimus to access from his memory chips: although Optimus _had_ had cause to use the formal phrasing before, it was a very long time ago. He reached out to Firestar, taking her hand from Elita's, who released it, as he drew Firestar towards him, carefully helping her onto his desk.

Firestar did not resist: on the contrary, she climbed up on his desk as fast as protocol would allow. As the team once again moved in to assist, they did _not_ just confine their activities to Optimus. All of the team - _all_ of whom had prior experience of Spark-sex - databurst tips and hints to Firestar whenever she seemed uncertain, or hesitated.

Optimus, for his part, took longer with her than with any of the others, keeping his caresses gentle rather than hungry. Every so often he asked if she was all right, or asked permission to go further or be firmer with his caresses on her body, or asking permission to touch her chest, face, hair, or back.

When the team drew back as Firestar's arms circled Optimus' neck, he gently held her to his chest, stroking and caressing her, carefully, slowly, and very gently loosening her chest-plate catches to ensure a painless opening for her of her primary chest plates. Optimus made sure to stay alert for the first sign any tension in her body, or any change in her face or optics that might reflect doubt, fear, or a sudden unwillingness on her part, ready to back off if he felt any such tension. He was glad to note, however, that his touches generated no such response.

Equally gently, he guided her hand to his own chest panel catches; although he needed no help here, with a less experienced mech, her assist may be needed, and it was best for him to teach her how, now. He helped her to work them loose, and once she had accomplished that, kissed her soundly, but still gently, and still leaving her the option to pull away if she found it too much. She did not pull back at all: on the contrary, she returned his kiss with more ardour than he expected.

He found himself supporting her entire body with one arm as she brought her legs up around his waist, one at a time, and locked them in place. This, he realised, was an untouched femme who trusted him implicitly, and was submitting to him entirely with an innocence and trust in him that greatly humbled the Autobot leader.

His other arm and hand came up to support her aft, taking the strain off her locked lower limbs, and the hand on her back stroked and caressed her, and lightly played along her back, arousing her delicately and sensuously as he found the bundles of sensor-nerves along her shoulders and at the junction of her neck and chest.

Lowering his head, his lips teased her ventral surfaces, as he nuzzled aside her secondary chest plates and stimulated her feeding tubes, and teased her sensitive wires and cables with his lips. One hand continued caressing her back, the other rubbed and squeezed her aft, but his arms still cradled and supported her weight: _her_ enjoyment of this first time was absolutely paramount.

Elita was abruptly by his side again, caressing with delicate fingertips the insides of Firestar's thighs and lower limb joints, determined to help Firestar reach the highest point of ecstasy possible. Firestar relaxed further as Elita stroked the insides of her knee joints, and ran experienced fingers up Firestar's legs to stimulate the locomotor cables Elita knew lay just under Firestar's (or any Cybertronian's, mech or femme's) hide in that particular place.

When Firestar's horn went off, it was joined by a scream of pure pleasure from her vocal processor. Then, both sounds were drowned out as Optimus' horn sounded for the fourth time in two and a half hours.

Firestar had offlined, going limp in Optimus' arms.

It was considered a compliment to have your partner offline in pleasure, be it their first time, or just one of many, and Optimus understood this, understood the compliment that Firestar had unknowingly paid him.

"I am putting her in for a brief recharge, I think it would be advantageous." Optimus said, moving on legs that themselves felt ready to give way. He lay Firestar down in his private recharge chamber, (which Ratchet had insisted he have installed) finding and depressing her online/offline button to re-online her. Her optics brightened, and she looked up at him, smiling radiantly.

"Thank you!" was all she could say.

"Recharge, just for a half-hour, please?" he asked her.

"I will join you, that recharge berth is big enough for us both, I want to be able to give Ironhide the best reception I possibly can." Chromia stated, climbing in beside Firestar before the latter could raise any objection or accusation that she was supposed to now be considered as an adult, but was being treated like a Sparkling.

Optimus set the dial for half an hour, turning away as both femmes sank into their recharge period. A light touch on his legs drew his attention: it was Arcee.

Arcee was just nine feet tall, and Optimus wondered how they would logistically overcome the size difference, but Arcee had obviously thought that one out herself.

"Lie down, on your back, please, sir." she suggested. When Optimus did so, Arcee climbed onto his chest, and Elita and Moonracer moved in on his head and legs. Arcee knelt on his upper chest, running incredibly delicate fingers down his cheeks to his chin, and then down his throat in a manner that excited him beyond anything he had experienced that day.

"I may be small, but _don't_ underestimate me in any way." she stated. "Bigger and meaner Cybertronians than you have made _that_ mistake, and for them, as Decepticons, it was the last mistake they _ever _made." she said. Then she shifted herself so she could press her lips to his, and firmly but gently kissed him.

Optimus quickly discovered that not only did Arcee seem to have an intimate knowledge of where a mech tended to be sensitive, but her hands were small enough to reach sensitive places that a larger femme, such as Elita, was unable to, because their hands and fingers were too large.

The horn blast, sounding forty minutes later, left none of those within hearing distance with any doubt that the femme who had precipitated it was any less effective at stimulating their Leader in certain ways than the others had been.


	4. Chapter 4: Still Hungry

Hunting Party

Chapter Four

Still Hungry.

Firestar and Chromia came out of the recharge berth once their refresh recharge was done, and it was then Elita and Chromia who helped Optimus over to it, and Moonracer who brought him a large mug of energon from the dispenser on the wall of his room. Then the five femmes found his guest mugs, of all different sizes, each selected one of a good size for themselves, and drew themselves a mug each as well, after asking permission (and receiving it) from Optimus.

Once they'd all finished their drinks, Elita pushed Optimus back into his recharge berth, gave him a tender, gentle brush of his lips with hers, and then pushed the canopy shut, setting the dial for six hours. Although Optimus had obviously enjoyed his meeting with the five, he was obviously completely exhausted, and six hours, Elita thought, would give him enough energy to function normally once the recharge was over.

"Okay, Team, I'm guessing that we should now report to the medical bay, if Optimus has a medic, he will want to check us for damage and ascertain that we are in a good state of repair." said Elita.

"Do we _have_ to?" asked Moonracer rebelliously. "Maybe your Optimus is exhausted and sated, but I'm nowhere _near_ satisfied yet. C'mon, Elita, there's a base full of mechs here, and that little sample has just left me wanting more of the same."

"Me too." admitted Chromia. "We know who's here, from that rota Optimus had up on his wall. 'Hidey's here, and I want to see him." She sighed. "I want to feel his strong arms around me again. We _know_ we're all fine, Elita, we checked each other out upon landing, and seeing as we absorbed as much solar energy as we could before landing, our energy levels are absolutely fine. C'mon, Elita, I want to go say hello to my 'Hidey."

Elita looked at Firestar and Arcee. The first looked suitably energised enough from her half-hour recharge and the second nodded, even though her turn with Optimus had left her, by her own admission, giddy

"Okay, Team, let's move out and locate Ironhide." said Elita, secretly pleased, for Elita was in accord with the others: she, too was still hungry.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

"Where _are_ they then?" Ratchet asked grumpily. It was fifteen minutes after the last set of horn blasts, and none of the five femmes had so much as poked their olfactory sensors around the door of the med bay. He would have dismissed them once again as the imagination of the ones who had seen them, had it not been for the unknown horn blasts and the fact that all the other mechs, except for Ironhide, were accounted for right there in the medical bay. Cliffjumper had told Ratchet that Ironhide was at the gate, guarding the entrance to their bay, which is where Ratchet expected him to be.

Unless Optimus was interfacing with himself (which didn't explain the unknown horns) there had to be at least one more Cybertronian involved. Questioned separately on the sizes and colours and looks of the femmes they had seen, Cliffjumper's and Mirage's accounts tallied.

Which still didn't answer the question: where _were_ they?

"Did you two say that one of the five was a striking dark blue femme?" Ratchet asked Cliffjumper and Mirage, the only two mechs who had seen all five femmes.

"Yes, and she was about my height." supplied Mirage, while Cliffjumper's optics glazed over and he smiled goofily as he stated "She's beautiful. They were _all_ beautiful."

Ratchet groaned.

"Chromia. It figures." he said. "I bet she's taken them all looking for Ironhide."

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

After printing out another 'Do Not Disturb' sign so they could leave the first up to give Optimus an uninterrupted recharge, Chromia looked for signs.

"I know where he's going to be." she pointed at a sign saying ARMOURY. "Follow the arrow, femmes, he'll be there. He lives _and_ works in his armoury." she stated.

The five reached the armoury, quickly finding that it was locked. That didn't stop Chromia, who reached over to the key pad and keyed in a twenty-five digit code from memory. The door opened as she winked at the other femmes.

"Only two people know Ironhide's personal code, and that's he and I." she stated. "IO'm just lucky that he hasn't felt the need to change it." She strode in, the other four following, to find her staring in disappointment around the room.

There was a target range at the far end, a locked cupboard, a weapons table, filled with a weird and wonderful assortment of weapons and ammunition, a desk with a computer terminal on it, a chair, and a rest pallet, but no Ironhide.

"He must be on duty." She accessed the computer with the same twenty-five digit code. "I'll run a scan for his Spark-signature. He's probably guarding, or out on patrol." she groaned. "I hope he's not out on patrol, I _want_ him!"

"Here!" she said, optics glowing as a map popped up with two pulsing blips on it. "This is us….and this is _him_!" she said. "He's guarding the gate, that cute little red mech must have gone off duty, a shift change or something." She committed the map to memory, than switched the terminal back off.

"You wait her, I'll go and get him." She smiled.

"Let's surprise him, shall we?"

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Ironhide looked up, noticing that there was still nothing going on at the gate. He decided that he would have to get some perimeter sensors installed that would alert him, Hound, or Prowl to any suspicious activity within 3 miles of the base. That way, gate-duty could be relegated to punishment duty. He wondered how Cliffjumper was: poor overstressed mech, Ratchet probably had him in recharge at that very moment. He allowed himself a slight smile as he recalled Cliffjumper's outrageous claim.

"Five femmes." he muttered. "We'll be lucky if there's five femmes in _existence_, let alone five femmes getting _here_." he said, losing his smile and feeling rather low. He had to face facts, his beautiful, loving Chromia was probably dead. He sighed moodily, deciding he had to think of something else, before he fell into a dangerous negative mood, one that the risk of extinction would likely deepen, possibly beyond recovery.

"Hello, Ironhide."

At first, Ironhide thought that his memory was playing tricks on him, he had been thinking of his beautiful Spark mate, he had _wanted_ to hear her voice speaking his name, so he had.

"So this is where you're hiding?"

This time, he turned towards the direction the voice had come from. His optics widened as he saw her standing in the door to the gatehouse, large as life and just as gorgeous as he remembered. Maybe it wasn't just the younger mechs who were feeling the strain of the no-femmes situation.

He activated the speaker system.

"Hound, wherever you are, could you come and relieve me, I have to see Ratchet." he said.

"Uh-yeah, right away." said Hound, followed by a muttered comment that sounded suspiciously like "Slag! Just my luck!"

Chromia reached out as Ironhide closed the connection. She grasped Ironhide's wrist, pulling him towards her, out of the gatehouse until he was standing just in front of her.

"Y-you're _real_?" he sputtered. "Chromia, my Chromia, is it really _you_?"

"Yes, it's me, 'Hide, and you are _not_ going to see Ratchet, because you do _not_ need to see him, and _he_ does not need to see _you_. _I_, on the other hand, need a good long dose of your company."

Needing no more persuading, Ironhide allowed her to pull him behind her, still by one hand around his wrist, back towards the base. They passed Hound on the way, who cast Ironhide an envious look, but continued on up to the gate house. Hound was a good mech, Ironhide reflected, who stuck to his duty when needed, in spite of circumstances. Hound was, like Ironhide himself, of the firm belief that the day the Autobots let down their guard was bound to be the day the Decepticons chose to launch an attack. The Decepticons had been all too quiet lately.

"Chromia, I-I'm so glad you've survived, that you're _here_!" Ironhide told her. They had reached the armoury, and Ironhide allowed Chromia to key open the door, enjoying the sight of her slender, shapely fingers doing something he thought he'd never see her doing again.

As she pulled him in, whatever he had about to say next died on his lips as the other four femmes gathered around him, smiling gently and gazing at him with affection. They moved around, shifting about him until he suddenly realised that the backs of his legs were against the end of the armaments table: with a little encouragement from Chromia and her team mates, he pushed himself up to sit on it, then slid back on it as Chromia climbed up to straddle his thighs.

It had been covered in weapons when he had left it: it was now empty. Obviously the four femmes in waiting had cleared it while Chromia was fetching him.

Chromia leaned forwards, one hand resting ion his chest above the location of his Spark, which danced in his chest in reaction to her proximity. She began applying pressure, pushing Ironhide into a reclining position.

"Lie back, 'Hidey. _Now_. I _want_ you." she stated simply.

As Ironhide numbly obeyed, (but knowing he was going to enjoy this) he reflected that he owed Cliffjumper an apology.


	5. Chapter 5: Ready, Willing and Able

Hunting Party

Chapter Five

Ready, Willing and Able.

With a femme stroking each limb, and Chromia now straddling his waist, the supine Ironhide locked his optics with Chromia's. She returned his steady gaze almost challengingly.

"If you'd rather the rest of the team not participate, if you want this to be private, just you and me, then say so," Chromia said, her voice gentling. "_We_ may all be up for it with almost _any_ willing mech, but the key word here is '_willing'_" The stroking of each limb slowed and stilled as they awaited his response.

Ironhide smiled up tenderly at his Sparkmate, Chromia.

"Ready, willing, and able to serve you _and_ your team, Ma'am." he replied. "That is, as long as they, too are willing." As Chromia leaned forwards, sliding her hands slowly up his chest towards his shoulders, the stroking of each limb began anew: it was quite apparent that all four of Chromia's team mates were as willing as she herself.

Chromia nuzzled Ironhide's chest with her face, as her fingers found his armour seams and caressed them with practiced ease. Her hands moved up to his neck juncture, lingered there for some time, her touch teasing the Weapons Specialist , making him twist his head and arch his back, pushing his body up against Chromia's own. Her hands trailed up his neck, her fingers found his sensitive data ports, slid up over his head, and moved sensuously and purposefully along his optic ridges. She stroked and caressed them, allowing the tips to tickle down his wide nose, travel over his cheek plates, and trail along the edge of his top lip.

Teasingly, she allowed two digits of one hand to slip inside his mouth, tenderly running them about inside over some areas that she knew, against all expectations to some, were especially sensitive.

Meanwhile, the other four were experimenting with stroking exposed inner joint surfaces and caressing exposed cables. Little Arcee, finding a particularly sensitive cable with her tantalising strokes, was actually swept off her feet as Ironhide's left arm jerked upwards in reaction. She didn't panic or lose her grip, but magnetised the inside plating of her legs, and used that to stay on.

Firestar shifted her attention from his other arm to his lower waist, his bucking and arching was briefly making available his lower back, a sensitive place on _all_ mechs, as far as she had been told. Chromia had told her, that although Ironhide was singular in many ways, this was one way in which he did _not_ differ from other mechs: his lower back was just as sensitive.

As he arched again, Firestar slid her hands into the hollow created, and began stroking and plucking gently at his spinal structure which drove Ironhide into even more frenzied movement.

Elita was caressing his shin plates as Moonracer moved down his legs, slipping skilful fingers into the hollows and spaces of Ironhide's ankles, very gently tugging at and caressing the wires and cabling she found there, as her lips travelled back and forth from sole to upper edge of foot and back again. Ironhide growled in pleasure, his optics crossing with the almost-overload of pleasure the team were coaxing out of him.

As Ironhide's arms both came up, the team fell back - Arcee literally, as she released her magnetic hold on Ironhide's arm - and one of his big hands settled on Chromia's lower back, and began to firmly rub up and down as she let her chest lie on his, and his other hand settled on her hip, firmly stroking down, coming around to grab at and fondle her aft firmly but lovingly. Chromia let out a cry of longing, pressing her chest against Ironhide's, her arms pulling herself up his chest till their Spark-chamber areas were level. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, a spasm ran through them both.

If anyone had had any doubts about where the femmes had gone, the noises from the armoury dispelled them.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

"Slag!" swore Chromia, as she realised that Ironhide was still limp beneath her. She straightened up. He didn't react.

"Is he all right?" asked Firestar, concerned, for Ironhide's optics were shuttered, and his body was limp.

"He's fine, but obviously he has been without any form of pleasure if this sort since we last saw each other, or I'm better than I thought I was. He's coffined with the pleasure." she said. "Yes, it's a compliment but it's a slagging nuisance considering the awkward positioning of his online button."

Elita dimmed her optics. "I won't ask." she said.

"I'll go and get some energon, he may need it." Moonracer said, heading off. Passing one room marked MEDICAL BAY, she headed for a room that had a part-glass door and peered in. It seemed to be empty of life, but contained a green table with red and yellow spherical objects on it, and a cork board with three throwing points stuck in a picture of Starscream that had been pinned to it. Several comfy-looking seats and sofas and some tables wee also in the room. It was the thing she was looking for - a half-full wall dispenser of energon - that drew her into the room.

She found a shelf nearby with differently-sized mugs. Selecting an Ironhide-proportioned mug, she filled the mug with energon, and headed back out into the corridor with it.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

"Okay, Cliffjumper, you're moving around so much, you're driving me to distraction." said Ratchet. "Go and work some of that excess energy of yours off in the rec-room."

All the recharge berths had been cleaned and serviced, and Ratchet had put some of the assembled mechs into recharge. These included Bluestreak (whom despite his moans, was overdue a recharge), Mirage, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe (despite their loud protests-he finally got them to acquiesce by telling them "Get in there of I'll offline you and PUT you in there myself!") and Prowl and Bumblebee shared the biggest chamber.

Cliffjumper obeyed Ratchet, realising that his fidgeting was a symptom of impatience and nerves. He exited the med bay, thinking he's maybe put some more holes in the picture of Starscream on the dart board, and almost walked into the beautiful green leggy femme carrying a large, full mug of energon down the corridor.

As Cliffjumper stared at her, and their optics met, she smiled. She knelt before him, setting the mug of energon down carefully.

"Why, hello there." she said, raising one delicate-looking hand to his head, trailing one finger along an antenna before sliding the whole hand down the back of his head. "What's _your_ name, handsome?"


	6. Chapter 6: Moonracer's Next Date

Hunting Party

Chapter Six

Moonracer's Next Date

"I-I'm Cliffj-jumper." he stammered as her hand started tracing circles around his dataports. He was already feeling giddy.

"I'm Moonracer." she told him, her hand now rubbing up and down the side of his neck. He shivered in pleasure.

"C-can I offer you a-a back masAaaaage?" he said, the last word being stretched out as her clever fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. She put her mouth near his right audio receiver.

"Of course." she whispered. "I _do_ have to finish up with the others, that'll take a couple of hours, but I _will _come back to you, I promise." she said.

"C-can I kiss you?" he asked. She smiled, and her arms went around him, and then he was on his back, his top body supported in her arms. "Something for you to think about until I'm done." she said.

All of a sudden her mouth was on his, and he was being given the kiss of his life, and the hand on his shoulder shifted so that one gentle finger could reach to caress his dataports. His optics crossed, and his body squirmed in her embrace, as stars exploded before his optics and the outside world suddenly seemed unreal, all that existed was just him and her, her mouth on his, her finger teasing and stroking at his dataports, and all he could see was a multitude of beautiful stars, and steaks of light, and _oh slag it ,he was about to offline!_

Just as he thought his body was about to give up and go offline, the kiss ended and her arms were merely supporting him again. He felt that he was being carried somewhere, felt himself laid down on a soft surface. A slender, cool hand caressed his head, and then, for a while, he was lying in a haze of pleasure.

When his processors started making sense of his sensory input, he found that the lovely Moonracer had considerately placed him one of the sofas in the rec room. When, five minutes later, he trusted his legs to support him, he made his way carefully to the energon dispenser and got himself a mug. He sat down, drank it, and then allowed his optics to shutter, and a smile to spread over his face as he relived the memories of Moonracer's kiss and caresses, and her promise of more to come.

If that kiss was anything to go by, she would be well worth the two-hour wait.

oOo oOo oOo oOo ooo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Moonracer retrieved the mug of energon after carefully putting the almost-overloaded cute little red mech in a safe and comfortable environment to recover. She took it to the Armoury without further incident, and went in to give it to Ironhide.

She got in, to see Ironhide was back online, sitting up, with Chromia curled up on his lap, her legs drawn up, her hands on his sides and her head resting on his chest, with her optics shuttered in bliss. His arms were both gently but firmly clasped about her, his big left hand anchored around her right shin, and his other curled around her and clasping her shoulder.

Moonracer held out the mug to Ironhide, holding it in both hands and proffering the handle to him: he released Chromia's shoulder to take it. Chromia unshuttered her optics long enough to see why he'd released her shoulder, ands the shuttered them contentedly again.

By the time Ironhide had drained the large mug, Chromia was reluctantly sliding off Ironhide's lap. Moonracer took the empty mug from him, put it dowen, and began stroking his neck joints. He lay back, pulling her onto the table beside him. Both resting on their sides, he asked "What is your designation?"

"I am called Moonracer." she told him, and then forestalled any other questions with a gentle kiss. Ironhide did not seem to object, returning her non-verbal communication in the same manner.

The rest of the team moved into action, Elita stroking Ironhide's head and neck in sweeping strokes, Chromia moving her hands teasingly up and down his back, wiggling her fingers in a sensuous manner which made him groan and throw back his head. Moonracer's own clever hands moved down to draw circles and spirals on his chest plates, making him twitch in pleasure. His own hands moved, one to her chest and one to her back, to rub and massage and caress, as he slid one finger under her chest plates to rub and caress her wires and fuel lines. She cried out in ecstasy: reflecting that as Ironhide was the oldest of the mechs, that he should have the greatest experience and knowledge base from which to draw upon.

Firestar was rubbing Ironhide's shin-plates when they jerked: she moved back as Ironhide transferred one of his arms to encircle Moonracer, the other still stimulating the sensitive circuitry under her chest plating.

The hand drew back as her chest plating began to spread: this was an unconscious response to the stimulation Ironhide was giving, for Moonracer was beyond conscious control.

Ironhide outlander to him, cradling her as his chest plates too opened, and their Sparks and their horns blasted off within a second of each other.

It was Arcee's turn, once Moonracer was sensate and able to stand again. It was Chromia who helped Arcee up, and Ironhide took the little femme into his arms as if she might break. He clasped her to his chest with one hand and gripped and released her legs gently. Her hands slid immediately under her chest plates, working and stroking the sensitive metal and complex workings underneath, and he brought his face forward to very, very gently nuzzle against her chest plates.

Elita had now switched places, working on Ironhide's legs, while Moonracer, recovered, was caressing his back and Chromia was stimulating his data ports. Firestar was stroking his feet, but the team drew back as Arcee pushed herself forwards, her clever hands, still under his plating, sliding around to his back, and then neither of them could restrain themselves, and once again, sound filled the room, lasting for a straight ten seconds.

OOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Arcee kissed Ironhide's brow ridges gently as Elita reached up to help her down. "Thank you!" she said, before sliding into her Team Leader's arms and being lowered back to the floor. She moved to a position where she could reach his arms or legs, waiting as Elita sat herself beside him. They stayed sat up, with Arcee rubbing his shins, as Elita concentrated on his head and chest, Firestar rubbing his back, Moonracer stroking the insides of one elbow and Chromia kissing all up his other arm. Arcee's actions on his legs were obviously the right thing to do: he moaned and shifted the legs, not to pull away, but to push them against Arcee's hands more.

She clung to him, pressing them together as her lips explored his face, his neck, his chest and her hands slid up and down his back plating. He freed one arm to caress her back, running blunt but gentle fingers up and down her spine.

It was the attentions of Chromia on his arms, a place she had never thoroughly explored before, that led to the most unexpected incident of the day, and it was, surprisingly, Hound, up at the gate, who had a grandstand seat.

OOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

There was a tremendous bang, heard by everybody at the base, but it was Hound who, to his shock, saw the top right corner of the Armoury blown out from within, disappearing in a huge plume of smoke.

"Oh _slag_!" came Ironhide's voice, sounding oddly staticky. "Could whoever that was _please_ don't touch that wire again. It is sensitive, but it's my cannon trigger wire, and we do not want to destroy our own base!"

"Sorry, Hidey, you've had that adapted since I was last with you. Now I know." Hound (and everybody else in the base) received a data burst from Ironhide assuring everybody that the base was not under attack.

Five minutes later, Ironhide's attention was devoted to clasping Elita to his chest as their Sparks merged.

OOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Ironhide was warned by Elita when Firestar moved forwards.

"Be careful, Ironhide, she's newly taught." she told him. Ironhide promised to be gentle with her, and he was, devoting plenty of time to caressing her inside joints, her audio processors, running gentle hands down her crafted hair, cupping her shoulders and stroking down her arms. He lay back, allowing her to lie atop him, and let her take it as slow or as fast as she wanted.

He lightly played just his fingertips all down her back, gently letting him kiss him on his face. He moved be hand lower, stroking her thigh with one hand while still lightly caressing her back.

This was a place where she was sensitive, and he was already stimulated from his last encounters, and it wasn't long before they, too, allowed their instincts to take over, and their Sparks to unite. This time, Firestar stayed conscious and aware, but her partner did not.

For the second time in three hours, Ironhide offlined.


	7. Chapter 7: Femme Recon

Hunting Party

Hunting Party.

Chapter Seven.

Femme Recon.

A/N thanks to Clankclankboom (livejournal) for the idea about the sirens.

"Chromia and I can take Ironhide to the medical bay, which should be near the recharge room. If not, the medic there can tell us where the recharge chambers are, and then we can all get checked over." Stated Elita, as Chromia reached into the awkward place on Ironhide's dorsal surface, where Ironhide's spinal column ended - two inches down into the cleft where his legs began – to press his re-online button.

Ironhide's optics clicked and then slowly unshuttered as his reboot kicked in, and then he smiled tenderly up at Chromia. Elita and Chromia helped him off the weapons table, each looping one of Ironhide's arms over their shoulders to steady him as he stood.

"I can get to recharge by myself." He protested weakly, although both Elita and Chromia could tell that if they were not supporting him, he would have fallen over with exhaustion.

"Well, if your recharge berths are near your medical bay, we can take you there." said Elita." After all, your medic – Ratchet isn't it? – will want to give us a look over. Then, a few of us can give _him_ a look over!" Elita said with a saucy wink. "Your recharge chambers are near or in the medical bay aren't they?" she asked. Ironhide responded with a nod.

"I can direct you on the way." He said. "When you come out of the door of this room, go right to start with."

Elita said "Well, let's go! Ratchet awaits our presence!"

"With all due respect, Team Leader, slag that!" Moonracer said in disgust. "He'll have his hands full enough with the four of you and Ironhide. I have my next date waiting in another room for me, so if I may have your permission, Team Leader…?" She tailed off and gazed at Elita, who gave a cheerful laugh.

"Very well, Moonracer, don't keep your next date waiting, and if he's good, point him our way if he's up for more!" Elita said. "You're a fast worker if you found him while going for Ironhide's energon."

Moonracer walked out with the others, and then peeled off when Ironhide directed them with single words and hand signals to the medical bay. She carried on up the corridor until she reached the room where she had left the little red mech she had seen earlier. Surreptitiously, she peered around the door to look into the room.

She smiled as she saw that he was pretty much where she'd left him, optics still shuttered, and a look of bliss on his face. Silently, she crept into the room, as stealthy as she was when creeping up on unsuspecting Decepticons, although what she had in store for him was nothing she had done, nor had _wanted_ to do, to any of those Decepticons she had stalked and hunted down.

She silently walked over until she was next to his sofa, then, extending both slender index fingers and bending down from the waist towards him, she stroked the tips of those index fingers swiftly, teasingly, down both his head-antennae.

Cliffjumper's reaction was instantaneous. His optics shot open abruptly and he jerked upright with a gasp, his back arching and his arms and legs locking, his head on his neck tipping back. By the time he had finished reacting, Moonracer's arms were around him, and she pulled him up against her so they were chest to chest and their faces were almost on a level with each other.

"I promised I'd come back for you." She purred to him as her piercing blue optics looked at and caught the attention of his. "So, here I am. Now, what should we do next, hmm?" she asked, as she dropped her head and nuzzled the side of his neck.

"Just keep doing that." Was all he managed to say in response, his optics half-shuttering again in pleasure. As she lay them both back down on the sofa, Moonracer was only too happy to oblige.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

As Elita and Chromia brought Ironhide in, Ratchet snorted with exasperation.

"There you are! Bring Ironhide over here and let me check that you're all healthy. You should have come to _me_ first!"

"Ah, come on Ratchet." Elita said as they followed Ratchet to the recharging area. "We've still got_ plenty_ of energy left for _you_."

If Ratchet had been human, he would have blushed.

"For medical reasons _only_!" he said. "I would have liked to have reassured myself that you were okay, even just a _scan_, before you went running off around the Base like that!"

"Then once we get this one in recharge, scan me!" she said. Her face creased with annoyance. "That's if we can find a recharge unit that's _not_ in use!" she said.

Ratchet looked at all the timers. "Here, Mirage's time is almost done, we'll take him out and put him in there." He said.

As Mirage groggily got out, Firestar grabbed his wrist gently to pull him aside. He almost overbalanced, but she supported him, as Ratchet helped Elita and Chromia put Ironhide in the now-available chamber.

Firestar's arm was around Mirage's waist to support him, and as the recharge-disorientation began to wear off, he was suddenly very aware of how they were touching, the feel of her delicate hand on his waist, his own hands holding her shoulders. He looked at her face, to find her optics looking into his. She turned him so they were facing each other, and she raised a tentative hand to the back of his head, pulled his head down towards hers lightly, giving him an opportunity to resist.

Resisting was the last thing on Mirage's mind, as he put his arms around her, pulled her closer, and returned the hungry kiss she planted on his mouth. For her part, she planted both her hands on the small of his back, and smoothed them down to caress Mirage's aft.

"Perhaps you two could take enough time out from each other to round the corner? There are rest pallets for you to use there." asked Ratchet, who had finished putting Ironhide in recharge and turned in time to see the clinch. A hand snaked around from behind, gripped his shoulder, and he allowed his body to swivel at the waist as Elita pulled at him.

"I thought you were going to scan us?" she said. "Here we are, you moaned about not being able to scan us, well, here we are, so scan us!"

Ratchet did, scanning first Elita, and then Arcee, and then Chromia. He looked back towards where Firestar and Mirage, still holding each other, were wandering unsteadily off towards the area Ratchet had directed.

"If I can get that pair apart long enough, I'll scan her too. And where's the other? Cliffjumper said there were five of you?"

"Moonracer? She's too busy with someone else right now, and Firestar is in as good health as the rest of us. C'mon, let's see your office." aid Elita, slipping her hand around Ratchet's waist, pulling him to her so their legs and bodies touched. She ran a hand lightly over the pipework supporting his lights and he giggled, rapidly losing any sense of clinical detachment, especially when Chromia ran her hands down his back, wiggling her fingers sensuously. Elita kept pulling him towards his office, sliding her fingers of one hand teasingly round his lights and wrapping them around the bars, sliding the hand up and down the bars supporting them. He giggled again-the bars and lights were incredibly sensitive.

"Carry on doing that, and you'll set my sirens off!" he said, not really resisting and not really caring.

"Good!" said Elita wickedly. "That's what I'm _trying_ to do!"

"Ooh, can I try too?" asked Chromia, coming around to his other side. Ratchet stared.

"What….both of you…at once?" he asked, not believing his luck.

"Well….not if you don't want to….." Chromia said sadly. As she went to move away, he caught her around the waist with one arm.

"I didn't say that." He said." Now, I believe you two ladies wanted to see my office?"

He led them towards it.

Jazz came in just in time to see Ratchet and the pair of femmes go in the office, and Mirage and Firestar, still interlocked, finally get round the corner.

"What?" he said, and cursed inventively. "I just go for a lubrication break an' I miss out? Jus' my luck!" he groused.

He felt a tap on his arm, and turned.

"Will I do, or are you waiting for someone bigger?" Arcee asked him. Jazz stared so hard that his visor dropped into place as he lost concentration. Arcee giggled.

Ooh, pretty nice, handsome!" she said. "So, is my luck in or not?"

"Of course! Small is beautiful, as the humans say." He told her. "Want to come back to my place to listen to some music?" he asked her. She slipped a hand round his arm and leaned her head against it.

"I'd rather go to your place and do something else that some humans, for their equivalent, sometimes call 'making beautiful music together'." she told him, winking saucily.

Jazz stared: he was quite well up on human slang, so knew _exactly_ what she meant.

"Now _that's_ an offer I ain't turnin' down!" he responded. "C'mon, I'll show you where I hang out when I'm not in the rec room, and there's a nice rest pallet there.

Together, they headed off down the corridor.

A/N (Yes, Ironhide's re-online button is down in what humans would call the 'ass cleft/crack!)


End file.
